


are you aware you're my lifeline

by gracianasi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aladdin AU?, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Genie!Miller, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Pining, Revisionist Aladdin AU I guess, Slow Burn, Snark, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracianasi/pseuds/gracianasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty is wandering around campus one day, minding his own business, when he stumbles upon a tarnished magic lamp. The genie that he unwittingly summons... well, suffice it to say that Monty's in for an interesting adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	are you aware you're my lifeline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> So this came out of nowhere... I guess I just really like the idea of Miller being a drama queen, and clearly Miller would be a fantastic genie. Also fake relationship?? I wasn't planning on that. I guess it came up organically. SOOO. Enjoy.

Monty never expects to actually stumble upon an ancient magical artifact. Yeah, he's heard the stories, raunchy when told around campfires by tipsy teenagers and cautionary when told before bedtime by concerned parents, but he never really believed magic was real, just like how he never really believed the Easter Bunny was real. Tales of gods and djinni are whimsical, usually, and are secondary to the objectivity and absoluteness of science. At least, that is, until today.

It's his second day on campus, and Monty's trying to avoid becoming that antisocial recluse afraid to venture outside his dorm. He's wandering around University Street, eyes ducked to the pavement, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone trying to recruit freshmen to their clubs. He's briefly enticed by the Quidditch team's sign, embellished with a golden snitch in flight, but when it comes down to it, Monty  _is_ an antisocial recluse. He has Jasper; who else does he really need?

 _That should be a warning sign_ , he tells himself, lurching around a rapidly expanding group of sorority girls,  _if Jasper is my only friend._

rounding the corner of the social science building, Monty stops short and stares. To his right, the river rushes, steady and brown (Monty curses river pollution), and to his left, the red brick of the social science building stands stories high and imposing. What he's looking at--is it what he thinks it is? Is he hallucinating?--is nestled in the brush on the bank of the river, sand-crusted and tarnished and still somehow gleaming. 

"Nope," Monty mutters to himself, feeling his (traitorous) feet turn and start walking to the riverside, "nope, nope. Don't go there." His feet ignore his orders and keep moving. Tripping and stumbling, he descends the steep bank and crouches over the object.

It's a fucking magic lamp.

Monty scrubs his eyes with his hands, and looks again. The lamp is glinting in the sunlight, and Monty gets a distinct feeling that it's jeering at him. He imagines a tiny, high-pitched voice urging,  _pick me up! Rub me!_

"Ugh," Monty tells himself in disgust, and reaches out carefully and wrestles the lamp free from the brush.

Does it count as rubbing if he pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes the sand off?

Apparently it does, because the lamp alarmingly starts vibrating and emitting a clotted stream of purple smoke. Eyes wide, mouth wider, Monty stares and stares as the smoke pours from the lamp and solidifies into--into--

A really hot guy. Hovering in the air. Monty blinks hard.

"I am the djinn of the lamp," he says, with a voice at once like rending metal and like a waterfall, and unfurls a pair of thick arms. Gesturing grandly, he booms, "As recompense for freeing me from my prison, in which I have been confined for four thousand cycles, I grant you, human, three wishes." He pauses, as if for dramatic effect, and leans closer to Monty, and winks, and says, "use them wisely."

He--the _djinn_ , holy fuck--leans back and crosses his arms against his broad chest, looking directly into Monty's eyes like he expects him to fawn or basically do anything other than just gape blankly.

"Uh..." Monty says. Brilliant.

"Should I repeat myself?" the djinn seems to deflate a little.

"Uh--no, I think I got it all," Monty says, still crouched on the ground. The djinn is hovering over the ground, and Monty realizes he's craning his neck to see the djinn's face. He jumps to his feet, brushing his hands on his jeans reflexively. "You've been stuck in the lamp for four thousand years, I get a few wishes, but I have to word them carefully."

The djinn conjures a short, sharp knife (from _thin air_ ) and gets to work on his nails. He studiously avoids Monty's gaze. "Foolish mortals... you are all alike. You believe that any careless combination of thoughtless words may contain my power." His eyes flicker over Monty's form in curiosity. "You look different from other mortals I have known. Dressed rather oddly."

Monty looks down at his clothes. They seem pretty normal to him: jeans, polo shirt. Scuffed sneakers. Pretty much the nerdy Freshman uniform. "I'll take that as a compliment." And, because he can't think of anything else to say, he adds, "My name is Monty. Monty Green."

The djinn squints. "You would volunteer your name so freely to one you do not know? And a djinn, at that? Perhaps you are more foolish than I first thought."

That stings, because Monty got into the internationally acclaimed biotechnology program with a scholarship; he's definitely not a fool. He feels dangerously defiant, and he knits his eyebrows together and stares up at the djinn, wishing he would stop flying and even things out. "That's kind of rude. And you didn't tell me your name."

"Names are powerful," the djinn says, eyes glazing, and Monty thinks his mind is travelling back into the past. "At any rate, I have been given many names over the millennia; none have stuck."

Monty's brain apparently chooses this moment to catch up to the situation, and starts freaking out. Monty's just summoned a djinn--a powerful-looking one, if his soliloquizing has anything to say about it--who is at his service. Monty's brain is trying frantically to catalogue all the stories he's heard, all the rumours and myths and legends hidden and stuffed in corners of his mind. 

The djinn grows restless watching Monty's eyes dart from side to side, watching his eyebrows raise higher and higher on his forehead. Finally, letting out a belaboured sigh, the djinn reminds Monty, "Master, I am bound to carry out any three wishes to the best of my ability."

Monty comes back to himself, staring at the djinn in wonder. "Sorry, uh, I'm just trying to assimilate all this new information. My brain is kind of freaking out."

"'Freaking out?' I don't understand." The djinn's forehead puckers. "Is this a new colloquialism? I'll admit, being sequestered in my lamp for four thousand cycles has left me rather... er... out of the Zeitgeist." 

"How do you know English then?" Monty challenges.

The djinn smirks, showing teeth, and it's goddamn  _sinful_. Monty swallows hard. "My appearance and mannerisms are tailored to each Master that draws me from my lamp."

Oh. This djinn is unlocking all kinds of new information in Monty's brain. 

Before anything else brain-bending can happen, Monty hears movement behind him, and awareness of the rest of the world comes slamming back. Groups of freshmen students parade past, and Monty is thankful as hell that he's in a pretty secluded space behind the social sciences building. He can't be the only one who comes back here though, and he knows he's going to have to get out of here and find somewhere more private to figure out this... crisis is a heavy word but honestly Monty's head feels like it's seen the inside of a washing machine so. Crisis works.

"We need to get out of here," Monty says sotto voce, "I don't want anyone to see you. It's, uh. It's been a while since djinni and gods roamed the earth, I guess, and most people probably wouldn't welcome the sight of a hovering man in a vest and turban."

The djinn's eyes dance. Monty watches as the edges of his features become hazy, and then the concentrated purple smoke consumes the djinn's figure, and siphons back into the grubby lamp that Monty belatedly realizes he's still holding. 

Wondering just what he's gone and stumbled into the first week of school, he makes his way back to his dorm in a hurry. 

* * *

 

When Monty had first gotten his dorm assignment, he'd been pretty disappointed that he hadn't been matched with anyone and had instead been given a single room. Now, hurriedly swiping his key card and punching the button for the elevator, he couldn't be more relieved. Jasper lived a floor below him, but he already seems busy trying to gain the attentions of a fierce-looking, dark-haired girl he'd noticed at his floor meeting, so Monty isn't worried that he'll be around much (at least, until he gets over this girl). 

Monty closes and locks the door behind him and almost tosses the lamp away from him and onto his bed. That leaves the chair as the only available surface to sit on, so he pulls it out from the desk and collapses into it. Rubbing his chin, he considers the lamp. He'd rubbed most of the sand off, but it's still crusty and dull-looking. 

Monty clears his throat, clears it again, reaches for the lamp, rubs it tentatively. Smoke starts pouring out immediately, somehow more confidently than it had the first time (and how Monty knows this is beyond him), and between blinks the djinn is fully corporeal, or at least he looks that way.

"Where are we?" The djinn's eyes leap around Monty's small room with interest, alighting longest on the stack of books on the desk and the potted plants on the window sill, drinking in the late-morning sun rays. Monty gets up and presses his fingers into their soil, absently making sure they're moist enough while he tries to figure out what to do.

"My room," Monty says, back still turned to the djinn. He realizes belatedly that maybe showing a capricious (if the legends are true) magical being his back is dangerous, is showing weakness. Honestly at this point he's too tense and wired to even do anything. His brain is probably screaming orders at his body and his body's just given up. Is probably combusting internally.

"This hovel?" The djinn coughs. "Pardon me, Master. I just mean that, surely, this box of a room is too confining for you."

"Yeah, well," Monty says wryly enough, "It's all I get as a university freshman."

This apparently piques the djinn's interest, as he says, interest colouring his voice, "You are a scholar?"

Monty gains enough control over bodily function that he turns around (somewhat woodenly) and looks the djinn over. His short beard, his dark skin, his mischievous eyes. "I mean, I'm in the first year of my undergrad, so. Not really a big deal, especially in 2016." 

The djinn's forehead puckers again. "I'm afraid I have much culture to catch up on, Master."

"Monty is fine," Monty says. "And I'm not your master, I don't own you... do I?" He's suddenly unsure.

The djinn smoothly crosses his legs, still on Monty's bed (Monty studiously pretends not to notice). "You own my services, until I am no longer bound to you." He pauses for a moment, and ventures again, "Do you have a wish for me to grant?"

Monty winces. "Sorry, I guess that's kind of your thing. Uh. What can I wish for?" He brightens. "Can I wish for you to be free?"

The djinn is on his feet between heartbeats, and for the first time his features are arranged in a dark, fearsome expression. "Do not ever wish for that, mortal."

Monty, who is scared as hell, stammers, "W-why not?"

The djinn seems to realize that he's striking the fear of gods into Monty, because his face shifts and he steps back. More gently, he says, "It would come at great cost to you. If a mortal were to wish for a djinn's freedom, that freedom would come at the price of the mortal's life."

Monty flushes. "Oh. Shit."

The djinn is back to his composed self. Monty has one more question: "Is your lamp really a prison?"

The djinn deliberately locks eyes with Monty, and Monty swears that he's never felt the weight of someone's gaze so deep in him before. It's unsettling, but. Something else, too. Something he can't quite figure out yet. "Millennia ago, as a young djinn, I committed a crime against the djinni order and was sentenced to an eternity incarcerated and confined in the lamp, powerless against any mortal who might happen upon my lamp."

Monty shivers, the room suddenly chill. He's not sure but he would bet that the djinn is manipulating the temperature of his room for dramatic effect, and if that isn't at least a little bit funny then Monty is really going insane.

"Okay," Monty says after a protracted silence, scrubbing his face with his hands again, suddenly more tired than he's ever felt before, "Okay. My first wish is to know your name."

The djinn grimaces in distaste, looks like he might be trying to clamp his mouth shut and keep it that way before the magic of Monty's wish forces his lips apart (Monty hates himself a little for this). "Nathan," he finally spits, and his hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists.

Monty blinks. "Oh, I was expecting something... you know, longer. Or scarier. More intimidating."

The djinn sniffs. "It's the closest modern translation, okay?" He sounds like a petulant teenager Monty's age, and for a second Monty lets his head fill with possibilities. 

"Okay, Nathan," Monty says slowly, pretending not to notice the djinn's eyelids flutter at the intonation of his name, "Nice to meet you." It's pretty lame, as far as weighty statements go--Monty feels, immediately after he finishes speaking, that he ought to have made some kind of grand pronouncement--but the djinn just sighs and settles more comfortably onto Monty's bed.

Two wishes left.

* * *

 

It's been a couple of days, and Monty's starting to get used to Nathan. He retreats to his lamp while Monty sleeps and while he's in class, and Monty doesn't know what he does in there but has the feeling that he reverts to his incorporeal smoke form. Monty must be more of a loser than he'd previously thought, because it makes him feel bad, thinking about all the time Nathan must spend like that, so he tries to hang out in his dorm more often than not to keep him company.

Wryly, he thinks to himself after a week that it must be his destiny to become the antisocial recluse he'd always feared he would grow into. At least he can have a sense of humour about it.

He's coming back from his Introductory Microbiology class when the wispy beginnings of an idea start to coalesce in his mind. Getting to his room, he locks the door behind him and turns around to see the djinn stretched out on his back, paging through Monty's copy of  _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. Monty stops short, brows furrowing.

"Strange," Nathan almost purrs, "how wrong you mortals can be about the workings of magic." 

(Monty notices that Nathan puts the book aside carefully, rather than snorting and tossing it carelessly away like he'd done with Monty's Molecular Biology textbook.)

"That's my favourite of the series," Monty says, throwing himself onto his desk chair. "How quickly can you read, anyway?"

"I've read them all already," the djinn says indifferently with a lazy flick of his wrist, "I read a page at the speed with which you mortals read a word."

Monty thinks that would be a pretty handy skill to have during finals week. He's not going to wish for that though... not yet, at least. 

"So," Monty says slowly, unpacking his bag and making a show of being aloof (he hopes it's working but his expectations aren't high), "I've got an idea."

Nathan's gaze cuts to him and rest on his eyes. "I have a bad feeling about this idea, mortal."

"I can't keep hiding you in my room," Monty says, not waiting for the djinn to interrupt, thinking he should just steamroll on until he's finished his thought. "You're going to get found out sooner or later. And it's gonna be pretty awkward when that does happen. So," this comes out in a muttered rush, "I think you should pretend to be my boyfriend."

The djinn is quiet. Until, "I don't understand."

Monty expects him to say more, but he doesn't talk again after that. Monty looks up into the djinn's (now familiar) puckered-forehead expression, and sighs. "What I mean is, the fallout of someone--like my RA, for example--finding you hiding out in my room will be awkward, at the least--"

"So I'll be a cat during the day," the djinn shrugs. "No matter."

"No," Monty says, frustrated, "We're not allowed to have pets."

The djinn frowns. "What was that you said-- you used the word 'boyfriend.' What does that mean?"

Monty flushes. "It means, like... romantic partner. Lover." He flushes more deeply at the djinn's appraising look.

"And you think this--act--would be convincing?" he says finally, fingers plucking at his short beard.

"I haven't come up with any other excuse for you being here so often," Monty says, defensive. "Can you?"

The djinn is quiet for a bit longer, and then he sits up, and says decisively, "I will partake in this charade until my duty to you is fulfilled, Monty Green."

The corner of Monty's mouth quirks up (traitor mouth). "That's the other thing," Monty says carefully. "Nobody talks the way you do. Or dresses the way you do. I'm sorry to say this, but you're going to have to blend in if this is going to work."

(He can't believe he's doing this, actually collaborating with a djinn, when a week ago he'd been so ignorant of their existence. He wonders what Jasper would think. He wonders what his  _parents_ would think and feels a little sick, so he stops thinking.) 

The djinn, looking resigned, nods and unfolds himself from Monty's bed, and spreads his arms wide, and closes his eyes in concentration. Monty feels a breezy wind pick up around him, even though his window is shut, and before his eyes the djinn surrounds himself in familiar purple smoke; when the smoke clears, the djinn is almost unrecognizable to Monty. Instead of his gaudy costume, he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans and a beanie. 

"How's that?" the djinn asks, and Monty startles because the affectation is gone from his voice and he sounds--he sounds like a regular teenager. (Also because the djinn is even more attractive like this. Like he's someone Monty could meet at a party and maybe get to know.)

"How did you  _do_ that?" Monty gapes. 

"Magic," the djinn says casually, coolly. 

Monty forgets to reply because he's so busy trying not to stare.

* * *

 

He's playing video games in Jasper's common room when Jasper mentions that he's been invited to a party by the dark-haired girl he'd been flirting with their first week.

"Her name's Octavia," Jasper is saying, jabbing his fingers on his controller, "and her brother lives off-campus and he's having a party this weekend. Please please please come! I can't go without you."

"Why not?" Monty says, worrying about Nathan. The djinn. He hasn't figured out how to address him in his head, much less out loud with his voice. "You know Octavia. You'll meet some new people. Sounds fun."

Jasper actually pauses the game and ignores Monty's yelp. Jasper turns to face Monty and says, "You're my best friend. I'm playing the best friend card. Anyway, you've been hanging out alone in your dorm a lot lately. I'm getting out more than you are, which is really sad."

Monty doesn't reply, just stares blankly out the window. If he says no he'll hurt Jasper, but if he says yes...

"Please," Jasper says, drawing out the word but making it sound a little serious.

Monty deflates. "I'll come."

Later, after going to the dining hall with Jasper and filling up on pizza, Monty's in his room and sitting across from the djinn, who seems to prefer taking up as much space on Monty's bed as possible. It's not like Monty minds much at this point; he smells good.

"We're going out this weekend," Monty says. 

The djinn perks up almost immediately. "Thank the gods," he says fervently.

Monty tries not to startle at his abrupt display of enthusiasm. "I didn't think you'd be interested in going to a party full of twenty-year olds."

"Anywhere but this room," the djinn says. "It's not much of an improvement over the lamp, you know."

Monty winces. "I'm really sorry," he starts, but the rest of his apology is waved away.

"Don't worry about it," the djinn says, running a hand over his close-cut hair. "I have a flair for the dramatic, if you haven't noticed."

By now, Monty's getting used to the new way in which the djinn talks; he still has to remind himself not to get too caught up in it, though. He can't let himself get too comfortable with him. Monty only has two wishes left. He can't admit to himself yet that he's stalling, but he knows that there's something about the djinn that's pulling him, feels it somewhere in his stomach.

"Yeah," Monty says, a beat too late, coming back to the conversation. "Uh, so if we're going to go to the party--together--we should. Uh. Have a couple story, I guess."

The djinn--Nathan--adopts a pensive look. "We met in a class--what's that ridiculous three-hour lecture you're taking on Wednesdays? Molecular Biology. Yes, we met in that class, went out for coffee, studied together, etcetera." He looks at Monty expectantly.

"Okay," Monty says, and counts his only slightly strangled tone of voice as a win.

Nathan grins again, and Monty's heart lurches.

* * *

 

Monty takes the steps to Octavia's brother's house two at a time and knocks on the door. His palms are sweaty, but no one needs to know that.

The guy who opens the door has brown skin, freckles, and messy black hair. "I'm Bellamy," he says, and steps aside. "Kitchen's down there. Help yourself."

Monty glances back at Nathan, who's sizing up Bellamy. Finally, Nathan holds his hand out. "Miller," he introduces himself, and shakes hands with Bellamy.

When Bellamy goes to answer the door again and Monty gets the djinn alone, he says, raising his eyebrows, "Miller?"

"Names are powerful," the djinn repeats, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "The fewer people who know mine, the better."

"And you chose 'Miller?'" 

The djinn seems not to hear what Monty's just said, instead venturing further into the house. 

Monty finds Jasper a few minutes later, predictably hanging out by the TV, where a couple of other nerdy types are playing BioShock. He has to yell slightly over the music, and says, "Where's Octavia?"

Jasper, looking sulky around the edges, points to a far corner, where the dark-haired girl is standing fairly closely to a tall, tattooed guy whose head is bent toward her intimately. They seem pretty close. Monty pats Jasper on the back. Jasper brightens, though, and says, "You made it, though! I didn't know if you were going to come or not."

"Uh, about that," Monty says, looking around for the elusive djinn. He spots him over by a table being repurposed for beer pong, observing the activities with interest. "I--I brought someone."

It takes Jasper a moment to catch on, and then his eyes light up. "You  _brought_ someone? Monty, this is huge. Who's the guy?"

Monty wrestles Nathan away from the pong players and introduces him as Miller, his boyfriend, to a wide-eyed Jasper. Monty's more than a little bit shocked when he feels Nathan's fingers twining with his, hopes Jasper doesn't notice him freaking out.

Monty's introduced to more people than he can count: Clarke, a short blonde girl with what looks like paint smudges on her clothes; Wells, whose handshake is firm and whose eyes are warm; Harper, who's significantly kicking ass at beer pong; Lincoln, the guy he'd seen with Octavia earlier, surprisingly soft-spoken and the kind of person who seems to be genuinely interested in what people are saying; Murphy, whose sharp features match his disagreeable personality; Raven, who looks like she could crush him but in a good way. Monty meets even more people but can't remember their names. He thinks the amount of alcohol he's consumed is probably impacting his memory (and other things. He's been drawing closer and closer to Nathan all night). 

It's after midnight when Monty's djinn traces his fingers over Monty's cheekbone, leans in close, and says, "We should get you home."

Monty agrees, and they're stumbling out of Bellamy's house and Monty has at least seven new phone numbers in his contacts list and he hasn't been this drunk in months. He feels great. He feels unstoppable. He feels electric.

They don't say anything until they're back in Monty's dorm room. Monty barely has enough presence of mind to change into his pyjamas before falling into bed, let alone to care about the djinn standing in his room. 

He does remember, of course. Rolling over in bed, Monty's eyes fall on the djinn, who, for the first time, looks uncertain. Before the smoke blurring his edges consumes the rest of him, Monty stammers, "Wait. Do you--do djinni sleep?"

Nathan pauses. "Not the way mortals do," he says finally. "We rest, but we are always alert."

Monty thinks about what he's going to do, but, giddy, knows that the great thing about doing things when drunk is that thought isn't really supposed to go into it. He keeps eye contact with Nathan and rolls over against the wall. Nathan swallows thickly.

"Come sleep," Monty says quietly, and he can't keep his eyes open anymore, but he's sure he feels Nathan settling beside him with a sigh.

Monty sleeps, and he dreams.

When he wakes up, he wakes up alone, but he knows that last night wasn't part of his dream. 

* * *

 

Nathan has somehow become a student. Monty's still not sure how this happened, but one day while Monty was in class Nathan had gone and registered as a third-year English major (using more than a little magic, Monty assumes). When he thinks about it, it only makes sense. It makes Nathan's fake personality more ironclad.

Nathan has taken to joining Monty in the library, where Monty usually does his readings and assignments but lately has started searching for all the books he can find about djinni and old magic. The djinn isn't very forthcoming on the history of his kind, so Monty's taken it upon himself to conduct research. He's curious.

He learns about the endless wars between gods and djinni, and between djinni and mortals. He learns about the power of the djinni which, when unleashed, could level whole cities with the snap of fingers. Could swallow an entire ocean with a flick of the wrist. Some of the imagery makes Monty's head spin, and he tries to imagine Nathan doing some of these things. According to the stories his parents used to tell him before bed, djinni were capricious, mercurial, and self-serving. When Monty was younger, he'd imagined them all as Slytherins. He kind of liked the comparison. 

Something's not right, though, because he's been living with a djinn for the better part of two months and yeah, he's theatrical at times, and sure, his beauty is a little awe-inspiring, but Monty's pretty sure he doesn't want to destroy Monty or anyone else for that matter. What really makes Monty's head spin is thinking about how gullible he might be, how blind he might be to Nathan's true intentions. 

For some crazy reason, though, Monty's certain that Nathan is just as out of practice at being a person as Monty is. That, despite having lived for four thousand years, Nathan must have been young once. Might still be, depending on his age when he was sentenced to the lamp.

"How old were you when you were forced into the lamp?" Monty asks one night. They're sitting on a bench outside Monty's building. The nights are getting chillier but Monty wants to take advantage of the weather before it turns to shit in late October. 

Nathan's gaze is appraising. "Why do you want to know?"

"I could wish for you to ask," Monty replies casually, knowing that he won't do it. Knowing that Nathan knows he won't do it. It's been two months and he still has two wishes left. Nathan hasn't asked again about his wishes, and Monty hopes that means there's some kind of latent, long-buried humanity in Nathan that's surfacing after interminable millennia. Monty's read that confinement in a magic lamp makes a djinn impermeable to the passage of time. He half hopes that that's true.

After a few minutes, Nathan says quietly, "I was twenty-five when I was imprisoned. I would-- I'd give almost anything to be rid of this. All of it. I'm tired of the djinni and their rules."

Monty's breath is kind of stolen from his lungs at the look in Nathan's eyes. "I'm sorry," Monty says, not sure what he's sorry for but sure that he should say it anyway.

The corner of Nathan's mouth turns up but he doesn't meet Monty's bold gaze. "Thanks. It's not something I think about often. An endless stretch of the same moment, century after century. Until the lamp is found and I'm set free, with a catch. There's always a catch," he mutters, and laughs. It's not the kind of laugh Monty wants to hear again.

Monty doesn't realize he's taken Nathan's hand until Nathan's fingers tighten around his in response. 

* * *

 

Over the next month, Monty's social life suddenly gets a lot fuller than he'd ever expected it would be. He sits with Clarke in a few classes that they share together, he gets coffee with Jasper and Wells now and then, he even hangs out with Bellamy. Nathan's always with Monty now, gets along really well with Bellamy, has struck up friendships with the others. Monty comes dangerously close to forgetting that Nathan isn't a real person. Won't be with him forever.

Monty uses his second wish when he gets a call from his parents back at home. Nathan's lounging on Monty's bed as per usual, flicking through  _Much Ado About Nothing_ , when Monty's phone rings and changes everything.

Nathan notices the shift in Monty's tone of voice immediately, but leaves him alone until Monty gets off the phone with his dad, who's  _crying_ , and god, Monty's dad hasn't cried since Monty was nine and their dog died. 

"My mom is in a coma," Monty says dully, wishing his head would stop fogging, wishing the rushing in his ears would stop. "She got in a car accident and now she's in a coma. They don't think she's going to wake up."

Nathan is quiet, quieter than he's ever been, and then he says, "I can help. I can save her."

The hope that Monty feels is staggering. It crashes through his chest, lights him up from the inside. "Please," he gasps, "I can't--I don't--"

Nathan's there, in his space, in less than a moment, and his arms come around Monty and Monty couldn't possibly be freaking out more than he is right now but. It's nice. The comfort is nice.

"You can save her?" Monty asks, starting to breathe again.

"Yeah," Nathan says, and Monty sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes but pretends not to.

He and Nathan show up at his parents' house early the next morning, to his dad's astonishment. "Monty," he says, eyes wide, "How did you-- what about school--?"

"School can wait a bit, Dad," Monty says firmly, hand clasped tight in Nathan's, because that's the only thing keeping him steady right now. "I want to see Mom."

Monty's dad's face crumples slightly, just at the corners, but enough for Monty's heart to break a little. "She's at the hospital. Monty... it's not good." He looks like he's going to say something else, but catches sight of Nathan and stops abruptly.

"Miller," Nathan says, shaking Monty's dad's hand. "Monty's friend."

Monty's dad eyes him, and his gaze slips to their still-clasped hands. Something in his face lightens a little, and Monty feels a flutter of relief. 

When they get to the hospital, Monty's dad goes to get coffee, and Nathan follows Monty to his mom's room. She's lying in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, and her hair is snarled and her face is purple and blue with bruises, and her arms are cut up and she's not breathing by herself. Monty can't count the number of tubes pressed into her skin, and he has to sit down and gulp at the air to get it into his lungs. Nathan's hands come down on his shoulders.

"I hate to say this," Nathan says lowly, "but I need you to know the consequences of this wish. Saving the life of one comes at the price of another's."

Monty blinks, feels fuzzy still. "Who will die?"

"The fates are indiscriminate," Nathan says, in a voice that Monty knows is accompanied by a sad twist of his mouth. "I don't know any better than you do."

Monty's afraid that if he takes the time to think about this, he'll lose his nerve. Knowing that he'll probably never forgive himself either way, he forces words out of his mouth. "Do it, Nathan. Please."

He feels Nathan's hands tense on his shoulders, knows that it's because he's invoked his true name. He's only spoken it once before, on the day they met.

Nathan moves around him, moves to his mom's side, slips his hand into hers, and presses his lips together. The fluorescent light in the ceiling flickers a few times, a slight breeze ruffles the blankets on the bed, and then Nathan steps back and passes the back of his hand across his mouth.

"There," he says, sinking into a chair, "Can't go back now."

They've been back on campus for two days when Monty's dad calls, almost yelling, "She woke up! Here--" and passes the phone to his mom, his  _mom_ , who's alive thanks to Nathan, his mom who cries when she hears Monty's voice, who promises to call more and even write letters if he wants.

He's alone in his dorm room, and he's giddy, and when Nathan comes back from class, Monty kisses him without thinking.

For a beat, no one moves, and then Nathan's hand is cupping the back of Monty's neck and his arm is around Monty's waist and he's kissing Monty back with four thousand years' worth of stifled passion and emotion--

And just as suddenly, Monty finds himself at one end of the room and Nathan at the other.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I just," Monty says, breathing hard, "I just. My mom. She's awake. Because of you. You saved her, and I feel... you, _you_ make me feel amazing. Different than I've ever felt before. Like I'm a new person."

Nathan stares, his jaw working. Finally, he mutters, "You won't feel that way when you've come off the high." He pauses, and adds roughly, "You'll never know whose life you traded for hers. You'll never know if--if someone else you love dies, or someone they love--the fates, the universe, they play cruel games. Don't thank me."

Monty's astonished. Nathan pushes past him, leaves the door open. It makes a louder impression on Monty than if he'd slammed it shut.

* * *

 Octavia's mom dies suddenly a few weeks later, and Monty's so anxious he doesn't leave his dorm room all day. Nathan comes back from class to see Monty lying in bed just like he'd left him that morning, but this time there's a pillow over his head and his arms are tense and shaking.

"Monty?" Nathan hasn't apologized for what he'd said to Monty that night, but Monty's given up on that. His fear is eating at him, tearing through his skull and teasing at his heart, and he doesn't deserve an apology because it's his fault, isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

"I did it," Monty says, muffled from the pillow. Nathan pulls it off him and peers down, concerned. "I killed her. I did it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Octavia's mom," Monty says, and his voice shakes, and he's staring at the ceiling without seeing it. "She's dead. She died. Today. It was my fault. Had to be. My wish--"

Nathan frowns. Closes his eyes. Sits next to Monty. "Look, what I said that night--"

"It was true," Monty interrupts, "don't lie and say it wasn't to make me feel better. You were right, and now Octavia's mom--"

Nathan glares so hard that Monty's words evaporate on his tongue. "What I said that night was harsh. Yeah, it was true, but it was malicious. I was angry. At you. At me." He sighs and rubs at his eyes. "Monty, you can't blame yourself for this. It's out of your hands. And you can't torture yourself with doubts, with what-ifs. You'll drive yourself mad."

Monty closes his eyes, and he sees his mom's damaged body, and he imagines what Octavia and Bellamy are feeling right now. "I don't know what to do."

He doesn't remember a lot after that, but he does remember Nathan holding him, putting his arms around him carefully, like he doesn't want to break him. "I'm already broken," Monty says in response, but that only makes Nathan hold on to him tighter. 

The next morning, he wakes up in Nathan's arms. "I'm sorry," Monty says when he sees Nathan's inscrutable eyes on him. "I'm sorry for the wish. For making you do that."

Nathan stares at him, the way that Monty thinks he stares at Nathan. "No one's ever said that before," Nathan whispers.

Monty rubs his lips together reflexively. Nathan's eyes catch on the movement. 

"Tell me again why I can't wish for your freedom," Monty says, not wanting an answer. 

Nathan smiles sadly. His eyes are old and depthless. 

Hours later, Nathan tells Monty why he was imprisoned in the lamp four thousand years ago.

"Fraternization between djinni and humans was prohibited by the djinni order," Nathan says, his fingers picking at Monty's comforter. "I was young, and foolish, and I got too close to humans. One, in particular." He pauses, and Monty sees the moment when he decides to continue, sees it in the line of his lips and the square of his shoulders. "I fell in love. For that, I was punished."

Monty can't look at his face. "This human... didn't try to get you out of the lamp? Didn't try to set you free?"

Nathan's fingers still. "No. He was struck down by the ruler of the djinni."

Monty goes quiet again, and he thinks a lot, and after some time, he says carefully, "Nathan."

"Yes?" 

"I wish for you to become human."

" _Monty_ \--" Nathan's eyes are wide with alarm, but the telltale purple smoke is already filling the room, and Nathan's eyes vanish into the miasma.

Monty waits, breath bated, every nerve tensed, his heart leaping with hope, and when the cloud clears, Nathan's sitting there, just like he was before.

"What--what have you done?" Nathan stretches his arms out before him, inspecting them. His gaze flicks to the lamp, sitting innocuously on Monty's desk, and the funny thing is, the shine seems to have left it. "Monty... what did you  _do_?"

Monty swallows hard. "I made an educated guess."

Nathan waits, and narrows his eyes when Monty doesn't continue. "Elaborate."

"Well," Monty says slowly, trying to order his thoughts, "I was thinking about that night when you told me you'd give anything to break free of the djinni order. And then I was thinking about how your lover was killed before he could try to free you. And I was thinking about how the cost of freeing a djinni from his lamp is death. So I figured I would... circumvent it. Sort of."

Nathan's gaze grows even more dangerous. Monty brightens. "It worked, though! I didn't die, and you're still here; I think that by making you human, your connection to the lamp is severed anyway."

Nathan's eyes slide shut, and he exhales. "Monty," he says slowly, his hand moving almost of its own accord to cup the back of Monty's head, "You absolute  _idiot_." 

And then Nathan kisses Monty, and he doesn't stop kissing Monty, and Monty gets his arms around him, and Nathan is everywhere, pressed against him, filling his head, and Monty guesses this is what it's like to be in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Love Drought" by Beyoncé. Oh my god I hope this isn't 6k of crap.


End file.
